


Stranger

by spacecitytraffic



Category: The Mechanisms (Band)
Genre: College AU, Gen, because i'm apparently incapable of writing cis people, because that is my whole jam, brian is nonbinary, disabled modern mechs, that should about sum it up, tim has visual snow and doesn't see well in the dark, tim is implied to not be cis too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:16:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29548494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacecitytraffic/pseuds/spacecitytraffic
Summary: Brian has a bad break-up. Tim can't sleep, so he helps them write a song about it.
Relationships: Drumbot Brian & Gunpowder Tim (The Mechanisms), Drumbot Brian/Gunpowder Tim (The Mechanisms)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 45





	Stranger

It always ends up like this for Tim, doesn’t it? Two in the morning, and he’s still awake. Typical. It’s not like he has a presentation due tomorrow, or anything. 

Well, if he’s not going to get any sleep, he might as well do the next best thing to relax. Carefully, Tim slips out of his room, tracing his fingers along the plaster wall of the hallway to keep himself steady. The static in his vision is impenetrable in the low light, but that’s okay. He knows exactly where he’s going. 

The dorm’s music room is always his haven on nights like this--although, as the rumor goes, it wasn’t always such a nice place. It used to just be some nondescript nook, apparently, before the musicians took over this place in droves. But for better or for worse, a host of instruments have taken residence in that little room. And in Tim’s opinion, it’s the best damn place on campus. 

His bare feet are almost silent on the carpeted floor as he turns the corner and approaches his destination. Before he can step through the door, though, a much less muffled sound stops him in his tracks. 

A few banjo notes, stumbling and hesitant, and then the low sound of muttered obscenities. Huh. Someone else is in the practice room. 

Tim considers just turning around and going back to bed. But as he lingers there, just outside the threshold, he can’t help but notice the tension in his fellow insomniac’s voice and playing. That’s one of Jonny’s friends, isn’t it? His name starts with B, or something… Brian, if Tim remembers correctly. And from the sound of it, Brian is not having a very good evening, either. 

Blowing out a long sigh, Tim takes the final few steps and knocks on the doorframe, then lets himself in. A dim lamp makes it slightly easier to make out silhouettes in here, but not by much. “Um. Hey, there.”

There’s a startled stutter of banjo strings from the left side of the room as this Brian figure reacts to the intrusion. “Oh, um. Hi. Didn’t expect anybody else to be… Awake. And needing the room. I guess. I can get out of your way if you have to practice for anything, or...”

“Don’t worry about it.” Tim leans up against the side of the piano, shrugging. “Mind if I turn a couple more lights on, though?”

“Oh, yeah, go for it. Sorry, I should’ve put more light on in here...”

“You don’t have to apologize,” Tim says tiredly, skimming his fingertips along the familiar wall until they find and flick the switch. The sudden light hurts for a second, but his eyes adjust enough to make out Brian’s vague form huddled around his instrument like it’s some sort of liferaft. “You doing okay, there?”

Brian is silent for a few seconds, a rigid, tense kind of quiet that suggests that the answer is  _ no _ . Then he melts into a slumping sigh and says, “Well… it’s been a day. Is all.”

“Tell me about it,” Tim mutters, making his way across the room to where his guitar always sits. It’s right there in the corner, between the violin case and the drum kit. He’s made sure nobody else will ever have the gall to touch it, on pain of bodily mutilation. “School stuff?”

“No, uh…” Brian picks out a few more notes on his banjo, stalling. It’s a beautifully haunting sort of motif, one that does things to Tim in his sleep-deprived emotional state. But it’s only halfway written, so Brian has to stop and finish his thought. “Boy stuff. I guess.”

“Oh yeah, you’re dating that guy from the politics department, right?” Tim picks up his guitar as he talks, gripping its hollow body and pulling the strap over his head. “Jason or Jacob or something…”

“Jake,” Brian corrects automatically. Then, after a few more melancholy twangs: “I was, anyway.”

“Oh, that sucks.” Tim moves over to the left side of the room to settle cross-legged onto the ground near Brian. “Is that why…”

“Yep. I mean, it’s not really his fault? But I’m still pissed. So.” Brian strums the banjo a few times in rapid succession, for emphasis. “Here we are.” 

“Here we are indeed.” Leaning back against the wall, Tim picks out a simple riff that echoes what Brian was playing. E minor. A good key.

“Yeah. I… I’ve been trying to work out how ethical it would be to write an angry break-up song about it? ‘Cause, like, I don’t blame him, but also... I dunno.”

“Yeah?” Tim arches an eyebrow. “Now I’m curious, what did he do?”

“He didn’t do anything, I just…” Brian trails off, and for a moment, Tim finds himself inexplicably disappointed at the silence. Brian’s voice is… well, it’s nice to listen to. He sounds like he would be a good singer, if he ever figured out that song of his. 

“Come on, man,” Tim says, prompting him to continue. “You don’t sound like you buy that.”

A brief silence. “I’m… not a man, actually.”

“Oh. Hm. Cool.”

“Yeah, uh. He/they. Is the idea, these days.” Brian lets out a long breath and shifts the way he’s sitting, then starts mindlessly finger-picking at their instrument. More of the same sad stuff as earlier, but it’s a little more fluid now that they’re a little more relaxed. “Which was the main problem for Jake, actually.”

Tim sits up just a little straighter, ready to skip past indignance straight to righteous fury at a moment’s notice. “Oh?”

“No, no, it’s not  _ like _ that. He said I could think whatever I wanted about myself, but it was just that he only wanted a boyfriend, and…”

“Excuse me? He said that your  _ identity _ was just you ‘thinking that’ about yourself?” Tim can hear the strain in his own voice as he fights to stay civil. 

“He…” Brian sits back with a puff of exhaled air, rubbing at the back of their neck. “Huh. Now that you mention it, he didn’t phrase it that well…”

“Let me get this clear. You came out to your boyfriend, and instead of supporting you and finding that beautiful, he invalidated you and dumped you?”

“I dunno, it  _ is _ like… like thinking you know someone, then finding out they’re not who you thought they were, you know?” 

“Um. He can fucking deal.” 

At that, Brian snorts. “Huh. Yeah. Maybe you’re right…” 

“Of course I’m right.” Tim goes back to plucking at his guitar strings, echoing a few of the motifs Brian was working on. They’re good motifs, after all. “I don’t know you very well, obviously. But I do know you deserve to be celebrated for who you are.”

“Yeah?”

“Hell yeah. Other people have no claim on you, not even a little bit, even if they do want to keep hanging on to the image of you they made in their head. Smart people know better than to miss the lizard because they’re too attached to the shed skin. Cause the lizard is fucking awesome.”

Brian chuckles at that, beginning to play along with the guitar. Tim can’t tell what sound is more musical. “Huh. Interesting metaphor. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you sound a little invested in this whole thing.” 

“Oh, shut up.” Tim rolls his eyes, trying to rein his thoughts back in. “If you  _ must _ know, I have had a  _ couple _ similar experiences.”

“Fair, fair. So… breakup song it is?”

“I’d say you deserve the catharsis,” Tim says with a shrug. “You know, I can help you brainstorm, maybe even back you up on guitar if you want.” 

(Tim isn’t sure why he offers. Maybe it’s because he needs the outlet for his own anger, too. Or maybe it’s because he wants to hear more of Brian’s laughter. More of their voice. The thought of that voice singing… the thought of singing alongside that voice…)

(Or maybe it’s just because insomnia gets boring, and Tim just needs something to do. Yeah. That’s probably it.)

“You know what, you’re onto something there,” Brian says with another of those soft chuckles. “I’d love to, if you don’t mind.”

_ (You don’t understand, I had to keep my nature secret. / Oh, my love, my love, this cannot be.) _

**Author's Note:**

> This was just sitting in my google docs and I never really felt like posting it, but... why not? Thanks so much to @toy-soldiering for beta reading and hyping me up!


End file.
